LENKA-DOVAHKIIN WARRIOR
by DovahkiinDerpy
Summary: Dragons in Skyrim. Such things were thought stories of myth. But now its all too real. Lenka Hunter is the Dragonborn, the one foretold to save the world from Alduin. But she is reluctant to. She would rather stick to being a Companion, drinking mead all day.So Lenka must face her fears and fight for her life to save Skyrim. And her soul,in this epic story.


LENKA- DOVAHKIIN WARRIOR

1

The trees hardly let the sunlight bleed through onto the grass, which was damp with rain. Rocks sat under the trees, flat on top, like a perfect place to sketch or write, read or just sit on to think. It was a sight to be admired, to be proud of nature, to take in the beauty Kynareth had given the world. But it was hard of me to see the glorious nature while the werewolves chased me.

I had never seen one before. I thought them creatures of myth to scare children. But four were hot on my heels; chasing me and the other Companions, ready to feast. I wasn't even wearing my armor.

Aela had only told me to be here, waiting for them. I didn't expect the wolves. I was glad to have one of my swords, Blackheart, to fight for my life with. I jumped behind a rock, seeing the others there, and the werewolves still ran forward. Quickly, I ran forward, my sword slicing one of the beast's head off. I jumped and grabbed a tree branch above me, climbing up as the other three surrounded the dead wolf.

I took the opportunity to think for a split second on what I was about to do. Jump down, try to kill them and probably die myself. Who would mourn me? The Companions mightn't, I had no family alive, save my adopted family in Cyrodill, who would definitely mourn. I wouldn't go to Sovngarde, having not died in battle like my real parents, who were strong Nords, so I wouldn't see my parents. I made friends in Honorhall Orphanage in Riften when I was aged 10 to 11, but they would never know. Grelod would probably laugh if she found out.

Despite this, I jumped.

I could have Shouted at the beasts with my Thu'um, but the Companions didn't know I was the Dragonborn. I didn't want them to know anyway. I didn't even want to know about my dragon blood. I swung my sword quickly and before I knew it the beasts were dead.

"Nice technique, welp." I heard Aela the Huntress say to me.

"Where were you? Where are the others?" I ask.

She shrugged.

"By Shor's bones, I hope the blood comes out of these clothes or I will hurt all of you!"

I hear the others laugh.

"You are definitely Yould's daughter" Farkas says.

I glower. I hate any mention of my parents.

"I will be at Breezehome," I tell them "do not disturb me. I nned to get this dog stink out of my hair."

And I left.

My name is Lenka. Lenka Hunter. I probably should have told you at the beginning. Lenka for my mother's mother, Hunter from my father, Yould Hunter, who changed his name to leave his life in Cyrodill behind. My left eye is green like grass and my right is blue like the sea. My adoptive mother told me she could see fish swimming in that eye. They are nice people, my adoptive parents. I write to them every week, tell them what I'm doing, what my life in Skyrim is like. I only moved back here three months ago. I couldn't move back to Solitude, where I grew up from ages 1 to 10. I didn't want to move to Riften, where I spent 9 months in Honorhall. So I moved to Whiterun. I don't tell them everything though. Like how I'm a Dragonborn and the Greybeards are teaching me. I did tell them that I am Thane of Whiterun, and a Companion, like my father was. They were proud of me to hear that.

You might like my adoptive parents. They live in the poorest part of the Imperial City, at the waterfront, but are happy to even live there, given they barely have a septim to their names. I send them money as I get it.

My adoptive father is a Dark Elf, Ayron. He makes things for houses. Tables, chairs, beds, you name it, and he makes it. He hardly gets paid for his work, for his Nord bosses are racist.

My adoptive mother is an Argonian named Tar-Meena, a mage. Her name comes from her mother, and her mother's mother and so on. A family name.

I have an adoptive brother, but I seldom speak of him. He is a Khajiit, given the name J'skar by his birth parents, and Skooma Rat by my adoptive parents. When I first moved to Cyrodill he was normal. But so many thinking Khajiits are just druggies insulted him everyday. He lost his job and in turn, started his skooma addiction. He gave me some once. I had nearly drowned myself in the water before Tar-Meena rescued me. I never spoke to J'skar again.

My hair is orange, my favorite colour. It stands out in Skyrim, for I have not seen anyone with hair this colour. I did see one lady, a Stormcloak, with hair like mine in Helgen. I had been captured by Imperials as I made safe passage into Skyrim. They thought I was a rebel, so they tried to kill me. Alduin, a dragon, saved me from the block. He is going to kill the world if I don't stop him. The lady died, that ginger one. Like so many others and many more to come.

I walk into Whiterun to the sound of children playing. The laughter dances through my ears. I unlock the door to my house, Breezehome, and lock it behind me. I don't want anyone around, except my housecarl, Lydia.

"Greetings, my Thane," Lydia says to me.

I put my sword on the weapons rack. "I have had a terrible day, Lydia. I just need to rest."

"But the Jarl needs you to.."

"Lydia. Stop talking."

"It is important though!" she says furiously.

I stare at her.

"My Thane," she says meekly.

"Can it wait until dawn tomorrow? I need to wash the blood off my clothes and get the smell of werewolf out of my skin and hair. Then I need to sleep, hopefully without headless werewolf nightmares."

"I will inform the Jarl to be up before dawn to see you, Thane."

I turn and walk up the stairs, replying "yeah, sure."

Then I swear as I walk up the stairs.

I swear, as I get dressed into my sleeping robes.

I swear as I get the bucket.

I swear as I drag it downstairs.

I swear as I fill it with water.

I swear as I put nice smelling flowers in the water.

I swear, as I was my clothes.

I swear as I wash my hair.

I swear as I drag the clothes and bucket outside.

I swear as I hang up the clothes.

I swear as I tip out the now red water.

And I then swear out loud, the vilest words ever.

The children stop playing, staring at me.

I swear under my breath and walk back inside.

It is dawn. I am wearing the nicest clothes I could find in my messy dresser. I untied my hair and combed it so it is long and wavy behind me. I have a false smile on my lips. I rubbed my skin with fresh flowers so I smell nice. I look natural. I didn't even accessorize the outfit. Well, except for a necklace. It was my mothers, who got it from her mother, who got it from her mother, who got it from her husband, after he went blind. It is sapphire, with the Dadric God Sheogorath's name on it. He had gone mad in his blindness and started to worship the Madgod. He had died a month later.

It is the only thing I have left of my family.

I still ache from yesterday. My muscles felt stretched and torn. My bones were twig-like from my perspective. Once too strong to break, but now it felt like even a small breeze would destroy them.

Lydia was walking behind me, her face plain, as always. She wore her armor, like she always did. She never changed, I noticed. She was just…. Lydia. No one else I knew was like her. Maybe when I got older and got tired of adventuring, I would realize I was turning into her. Would I be as melancholic as her? Would I go from hero to nothing? Maybe a housecarl to another hero, one strong and loyal, who liked adventuring, who always dragged me along? Would there be anything left to kill? Probably. I could barely think of turning into Lydia, so I left that thought at the bottom of the stairs to Dragonsreach.

I walk gingerly up the steps. I saw guards, never moving in front of me. I saw the men and women as weaklings. Easily bribed, armor not as strong as the ones in Solitude, if I remembered correctly. Their stillness made me think, maybe there was nothing under the armor. Maybe if I removed one's helmet, there would be only air underneath. I felt vulnerable suddenly.

I got to the big wooden doors of Dragonsreach. Lydia opened them for me.

Jarl Bulgruuf was on his throne. For some weird reason, the Companions were on either side of him. The Wizard was nowhere in sight.

"Dragonborn," Bulgruuf boomed, "any news on Alduin?"

"Yeah 'Dragonborn'," Vilkas said, "any news?"

"Why didn't you tell us?" Aela asked me.

"Because it did not concern any matters we have gotten ourselves in" I tell Aela, "and as for news on Alduin, I know where he is. He is making passage to Skuldafn. I know not what he is planning to do, I am sorry."

"What matters most is that he is not attacking my people. Thank you."

"She has more to say, I see it in her eyes" a voice says.

Kodlak Whitemane stands up from his chair; I had not noticed him before.

"Well, um, the Greybeards might know what he is doing. They have not disclosed this information to me yet. But, um, ummmm, I need your help, Jarl."

Bulgruuf stands up.

"What do you desire, Dragonborn?"

I clear my throat, "to capture a dragon here."

The meeting is over. My ears are still ringing from Bulgruuf's yelling. It lasted over an hour. I'm surprised that the people in Whiterun couldn't hear a thing. He agreed, reluctantly, to help me capture a dragon here. After all, that's what Dragonsreach was built for anyway.

The Companions are still here. They all stalk forwards towards me.

"I'm sorry?" I say.

Their faces are all expressionless. They surround me.

"To Jorrvakr, welp." Aela tells me.

I mutter under my breath.


End file.
